


or should we just give up (take backward bounds and leaps)

by sunsetroots



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bc they wld be w that name lbr, Canon Compliant, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, clara thinking shes her own soulmate for a while, nonbinary Ashildr | Lady Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-21 09:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetroots/pseuds/sunsetroots
Summary: it must be the universe's idea of a joke.after all, there are only two letters branded across her skin, and they clearly spell out 'me'.





	or should we just give up (take backward bounds and leaps)

**Author's Note:**

> i thought this idea was damn hilarious so i hope u enjoy. it came out angstier than i intended but my writing always does

Clara sighs, runs a finger gently over the large letters curling around her wrist. She does this sometimes, unstraps the thick leather cuff that covers her mark and stares at the lines that stand bold against her skin.

She’s seen the odd, sometimes pitying looks she receives because she hides it, the cuff covering her forearm even at the height of summer because she doesn’t want people to see. Mostly because she isn’t sure what it means herself _._

The mark’s been there since she was born and she’s heard stories of other people who’ve had these marks, names etched into their skin of people they’re going to meet and love one day.

That's what most people think at least. Some people think they’re marks identifying your soulmate. Some people think they’re just random, coincidental. There are other theories too.

Clara tries not to think about it too much, because whatever theories are true, they might end up being wholly too self centred.

It must be the universe's idea of a joke. 

After all, there are only two letters branded across her skin, and they spell out 'Me'.

 

Her mum and dad tell her not to worry. That she'll figure it out, that things will work out as they're meant to, and Clara nods and grins. She's a child, they're her parents, of course they're right. 

 

Her mother dies and she pulls her father's hands away as he tries to use his own nails to scratch out the 'Ellie' marked proudly across his calf.  

 

She thinks she might understand hers when she jumps in the Doctor’s timestream. She thinks, maybe it means she’s her _own_ destiny, her jumping in there means she’ll be split along his life and so he’ll meet her so she can come here and make this choice to save him.

Maybe 'me' does mean _her_ , and she is her own making. She could be comfortable with that answer. 

She’s wrong.

 

She thinks maybe it could be the Doctor too, that her stepping into his timestream had entwined their two lives so completely that the mark had got confused and put 'me' meaning him.

Somewhere deep down she knows that's not it, but she holds on to the idea for a while. It's comforting in a way. The Doctor is such a huge part of her life, he's shown her things she would only have imagined, he's helped her grow into who she is and she loves him.

But deep down she _knows_ the mark does not mean him. 

 

Danny Pink is unexpected. Her name sits boldly on his back and across his shoulders and Clara stares at it with wide eyes and disbelief. But she presses a kiss to it and smiles as he turns to her and she says nothing.

“Can I see yours?” he asks a few nights later. 

Clara smiles softly and shakes her head. “I don’t have one,” she lies, forces herself to meet his eyes and not look at her covered wrist. 

She loves him, truly and deeply and she doesn't care what a bunch of lines on her arm might say to the contrary.

 

She’s going to tell him. She really is. A reminder is written in thick letters in caps on a post-it note and she’s on the phone to him and she's opening her mouth to tell him and - 

He _dies_.

 

She thinks she understands at last, when he stands in front of her entrapped in metal and crying out in pain, his skin broken and his eyes shining and his voice begging her to kill him, and Clara thinks maybe she finally understands. 

Maybe this is what the mark means. Maybe it’s your killer. Maybe her name etched into his skin was his death warrant. His warning.

Danny dies again, and Clara thinks she might get lucky, he might come back twice, but the light shines and a boy she’s never set eyes on steps out, and Clara forces herself to smile. 

 

The Doctor’s worried about her. She knows this. But Clara can’t help it, can’t help but throw herself into adventures, take risks and try to be happy because her _own name_ is curling around her wrist. She’s her own demise, she might as well enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Danny deserved better than her, and as much as she knows he’d be horrified to see how she acts these days, she... she can’t help it. Something in her is crying out, searching, something wants an answer it’s never going to get. 

People have been researching the marks for years and nothing has come of it, no enlightening meaning. Just rumours and ideas and a lot of nonsense. 

And honestly, Clara’s _tired._

 

Ashildr, the girl from the Viking village stands before them and Clara can hardly breathe when someone refers to her as ‘Lady Me’, when she introduces herself with a smile and her eyes glint with warmth as they meet Clara’s.

She realises she’s staring after a moment and just smiles and stills, listens to Me call her beautiful and an incredible feeling spreads through her.

This is it, she _knows_ somehow in her heart and her wrist, knows this is meant to be her calling. 

Later, the two of them have a moment alone, and Me explains - they are ‘Me’ because they’re alone, because that’s all that’s left of consequence, they’ve lived long enough that that’s all they have, everything else has fallen away, not mattering at all. 

That's what they say but Me is smiling at her like that last bit might not still be completely true. 

“You must have known. The first time we met,” says Clara.

Me knows what she's talking about.

"I knew from the moment I set eyes on you. Clara Oswald,” they say. Their mouth curls around her name like it’s precious and Clara smiles widely, ducks her head with a grin.

 _I_ _knew the moment I set eyes on you too_ , she thinks.

“But I was a Viking and you were a time traveller,” Me finishes. “It would never have worked.”

“What about now?” says Clara. “You’re not a Viking anymore.” 

Me tilts their head. “No,” they say, and they lean in to kiss Clara as easily as if they’re merely breathing.

 

The counter ticks at her neck and Clara meets Me's eyes and sees nothing but horror, and grief and her knees feel weak.

Another mark on her skin, cursing her. Clara rubs at it, wants it gone, but of course it won't go.

She stands to face the Raven and she almost feels like laughing because she was right when Danny died - the marks are nothing to do with love, nothing to do with what she thought. 

They really _are_ the name of the person who _kills you_.

For Clara that’s double edged, because it’s Me’s weapon but it’s her that’s wielding it.

 _Me killing myself and Me giving me the means to do it_.

Maybe that’s why not everyone has a mark, not everyone is killed so brutally.

She closes her eyes and cries out to some unknown power (maybe herself) to let her be brave one last time as the Raven calls out to her and she opens her arms to embrace the death that’s coming for her.

She should’ve known it wouldn't last.

 

She’s _alive_ again and standing in a TARDIS and grinning across at Me even though the Doctor’s forgotten her and she thinks maybe, _possibly,_ the marks mean _everything_. 

Maybe they mean your killer, your death, your lover, your friend, your soulmate. Maybe they mean nothing and they mean everything. Maybe they’re simply who has the most impact in your life.

She hadn’t considered that possibility because that had been the Doctor for so many years, but Me… Me stands beside her and Clara smiles. Clara and Me in their TARDIS, and a whole universe and eternity at their fingertips, and Clara knows that with nothing but death behind them now, Me is her future. Her life.

The wrist strap lays discarded on the floor and Me grins at her when she sees the marks, reaches out and picks up Clara’s hand, presses a kiss to her wrist.

Clara smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr [@gaybillpotts](http://gaybillpotts.tumblr.com)
> 
> title's from "old fools" by admiral fallow


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